Ha ha, no not that.
I mean, have you ever experienced Non-Doggie-People-Social-Acceptance-Fail?
The other day my sister and her friend Nicole stopped by for a visit. Now, I come from a non-animal-person type family – they like the mammals well enough, but aren’t the sort to have any of their own running around. They are forever forgetting that OFF means ‘get down’ and DOWN means ‘lie on the floor’ – the usual sort of non-dog people kind of thing. No big deal. Since they aren’t ‘into’ dogs, I try not to get too technical with the canine phrasology around them and keep my woof-love gushing to a minimum.
Occasionally I forget myself and come out with a sentence like “So anyway, I executed a rear cross where I should have fronted because he was on the wrong lead when he came out of that pinwheel and he dropped a bar when he tried to wrap the standard too tightly” or something equally guaranteed to fill the space above their heads with question marks and eye rolls. Oops.
But then there are times when I innocently say something that has the unintended power to repulse them, or send them into hysterics, or both. I did this on Monday – I was showing off some of the dogs’ tricks and rewarding them with bits of liver brownie.
“With what?” asks Nicole.
“Liver brownies,” replies your Food Lady.
This is Non-Doggie-People-Social-Acceptance-Fail.
“OH GROSS!!! OMG, that’s HILARIOUS” she and my sister scream with laughter.
“I have to text that to Jonathon” Nicole says and types away furiously on her iPhone. I stand there mystified. Ten seconds later her phone rings and I can hear Jonathon screaming through the little speaker “Liver brownie?! OH GROSS! OMG, that’s hilarious!!!”
I get it now – “brownies” to most people are tasty chocolately snack foods. To teenagers they are something you hide your pot in. To little girls they are brown dresses you wear until you’re big enough to be a Girl Guide.
To me, they are hand made, oven-baked Wootie bribes infused with ham and processed cheeze.
So much understanding that came just a fraction of a second too late.
Tell me, my fellow insane-dog-owning readers. What innocent but humourous faux pas have you made that have cemented your place at the bottom of the social heap?
It’s just that he can’t seem to convince those back legs to leave the ground. I know he can jump vertically because he does it – REPEATEDLY- when he sees my hand on the front door knob, or when he wants to kiss someone in the face. But he becomes, like, mesmerized by the disc and stands rooted in one spot until it’s practically on top of him, then he makes a frantic grab for it.
I know he’s too young for jumping anyway, and it’s not something I encourage. Periodically I throw him one as a reward for “get out” (I am teaching him distance). He’s really not improving though, his feet are still glued to the grass. It must come from Tweed’s side of the family.